


Bravery, Loyalty, and Honour

by Resacon1990



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Company loves Thorin, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Recruiting of the Company, Thorin loves his Company
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 08:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11032014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resacon1990/pseuds/Resacon1990
Summary: "To the first two members of Thorin's Company," Dwalin declares with a grin, "may Mahal have mercy on us."





	Bravery, Loyalty, and Honour

**Author's Note:**

> First fic for the Hobbit Fandom in almost two years. Holy jeepers. I'm sorry I've been absent so long.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**Dwalin**

He's barely trudged through the muddy gates of Ered Luin before Dwalin swamps him.

"Thought you'd almost got bloody lost again," Dwalin mutters as he hugs Thorin tightly, "you and that sense of direction, or _lack there of_."

He's clearly been waiting in the guardhouse for him to turn up, and Thorin just slings his bag into Dwalin's arms before stomping even further down the road. People wave and smile at him as he passes, happy to see their leader return, and Thorin musters up the energy to return the shy and happy greetings.

Dwalin trails along behind him and Thorin wishes he would actually walk beside him so he'd have an excuse to _not_ actually talk to the people around him, but the look on Dwalin's face makes him think that his friend actually wants him to suffer.

Wouldn't surprise him. He is two days late after all. Mostly due to the wizard he'd met and a small crowd of hobbit children who'd ambushed him in Bree and had spent the entire afternoon asking about dwarven culture. They'd reminded him too much of Fili and Kili for him to shake off, and he'd spent an extra night in the Prancing Pony because of it.

"Good trip?" Dwalin does finally speak up when they finally get to Thorin's Halls, and Thorin glares at him as he pushes open the doors and walks into the warm heat of the building.

"Besides the endless rain, yes," he mutters bitterly, and Dwalin snorts as he claps Thorin's shoulder before moving into the room. Thorin watches him discard his bag on one of the tables before he sheds his own damp cloaks and gives them to a nearby servant with a smile and thank you.

"Aye, the rain was colder than usual," Dwalin calls from where he's fiddling with something by the fire. Thorin pays no heed though as he moves to sit at the table with his bag and he drops it onto the floor. Dis will pitch a fit if she finds his dirty gear on any of the tables, more so if the two boys decide to be just like their uncle and do the same. He would’ve thought they’d have grown out of their “monkey see, monkey do” stage, but apparently the almost _adults_ were still convinced that their uncle was the best role model in the world.

"It's getting to be that time of the year," Thorin agrees. "Soon there will be rain and thunder storms and we will have to arrange extra shelter for the farms to house their stock. I'm not looking forward to having to deal with Old Havstan. That dwarf gives me grief every year about giving up his supplies."

"We could ask the hobbits for aid," Dwalin points out as he walks over, and Thorin's tired body picks up at seeing the steaming bowl of stew and warm mead in Dwalin's hands.

"Aye," he says as he takes the offerings and Dwalin turns back to gather his own, "we could. But the hobbits are too close to nature. They mightn't feel inclined to let us cut down their trees for shelters."

"But the hobbits are skilled at making many types of shelters. After all, you've seen their huts. They're built into the sides of hills. We're surrounded by mountains, we could easily do the same or even ask them for aid in crafting mud shelters," Dwalin argues as he plops down and kicks at Thorin's muddy boots, "gods know we've got enough of that crap."

Thorin chews his food thoughtfully as he considers Dwalin's words. He has a good point, and the execution of his plan would be much easier than going through Old Havstan again. Dwarf be damned.

"Thank you," Thorin mumbles around his food, and Dwalin just raises a spoon as if in salute before stuffing his own mouth with food.

They fall into a comfortable silence. Thorin devours his food quickly before just leaning forward with his elbows on the table and his mug of warm mead cupped in his hands. He waits patiently until Dwalin copies his stance before he finally speaks up.

"I bumped into Gandalf the Grey in Bree," he says casually and ignores Dwalin's stunned gaze. "Wasn't the most pleasant of surprises. Father was right when he used to say the wizard was crazier than a box full of cats."

"What did he want?"

Thorin glances at Dwalin wearily before he stares back down into his drink. "He mentioned that now would be the most appropriate time to attempt to reclaim Erebor," he murmurs and he hears Dwalin suck in a breath across from him. "He… he has offered his aid. I don't…"

He covers his face and breathes a sigh into them. Thinking about this makes his head hurt, and he'd honestly believed that he'd have the willpower to not mention it to Dwalin until he'd rested. This is exciting news though, as well as terrifying.

He only drops his hands once Dwalin touches the back of his wrist, and he glances up to see his friend frowning. He knows Dwalin has thought about retaking Erebor alongside Thorin multiple times, minus the part about the wizard helping though, and he knows that Dwalin has always been saner on the topic and not as headstrong as usual. It's why he'd wanted to ask Dwalin what he thinks since the moment he’d left the Prancing Pony.

If Dwalin thinks they should go, then go they will.

"If it is the right time, Thorin," Dwalin says gently, "then maybe it _is_ time we act. I know… I know you were waiting to find your Father so he may help us lead the armies, but maybe we should think about reclaiming Erebor while there is a _wizard_ of all people willing to help us."

"Even a wizard such as Gandalf the Grey?" Thorin asks with a snort, and Dwalin laughs as he drops his hand to his mug of mead and holds it up to drink from.

"Aye," he decides, "even from a wizard such as him. How long has he given you?"

Thorin groans as he wipes a hand back over his face and hair before he too scoops up his drink. "Six months," he tells Dwalin who nods slowly, "to recruit a Company and see if I can persuade any of the surrounding dwarven clans to come to our aid. I told him of their allegiance to the one who holds the arkenstone, and that one person only, and he has assured me that we will work it out. I don't know how much I trust this wizard, but he is the only hope I have." He glances at Dwalin's face grimly. "I merely wish my father would have been around for this. Maybe I might find him in the next six months, although I won't hold out much hope."

"So, I will gather the troops then," Dwalin says, "search for the best fighters-"

"No," Thorin disagrees, "no. I will hand pick this Company myself. I will value loyalty over their skills. Look at their honour and bravery. That is what I desire in my people, that is what I wish to see. This is no quest for mere fighters, Dwalin. This is one for our _people_."

"Do you know who then?" Dwalin asks skeptically, and Thorin's hand tightens on his mug as he stares at it.

"A couple," he answers honestly, "Balin, maybe. I feel as if he will not approve of this quest though."

Dwalin nods with a sad smile. “Balin gave up on that mountain the moment we were driven from it. Convincing a donkey to move would be easier than convincing Balin to come on this quest.”

Thorin laughs before he takes a deep breath and says, “Nori, if I can find him.”

As he’d expected, Dwalin’s hands tightened into fists. Something had happened between Dwalin and Nori a long time ago, and Thorin has always had his suspicions. He’d never asked though. What had happened was between the two of them, as long as it didn’t interfere with their work for Thorin he was prepared to let it be.

“If we must,” Dwalin growls, and Thorin smiles.

“Hopefully one will be you."

Dwalin nods with a roll of his eyes as he leans forward to clunk their mugs together. Thorin smiles again and makes sure to put a bit of gusto into their actions; enough for the liquid to spill out over the rims.

"To the first two members of Thorin's Company," Dwalin declares with a grin, "may Mahal have mercy on us."

 

…

 

**Bombur**

It's barely past midnight when Thorin admits defeat and struggles out of bed to stomp down to the kitchens. His mind has been too busy for the past few days with winter preparations and this upcoming quest that he can't relax at all.

The kitchens are always open though, and maybe Bombur will be down there for Thorin to talk to. They use to do it all the time, but since Thorin has begun going away for long periods of time their routine has fallen away and Thorin rarely finds Bombur lurking in the kitchens this late at night.

Fortune seems to be smiling on him though as he walks into the large kitchen and sees only Bombur standing at the sink. He's washing dishes as he hums to himself, and Thorin smiles as he makes his way over to sit down on one of the bench tables.

"Shouldn't you be at home?" he asks in greeting, and Bombur jumps before glancing over his shoulder to glare at Thorin.

"Shouldn't you be doing something other than sneaking around the halls late at night?" Bombur shoots back before he wipes his hands on a nearby cloth and turns to properly face Thorin. "What on earth are you doing down here?" he asks.

"I should be asking the same thing," Thorin replies as he smiles at his old friend, "especially since the kids are around now. I thought you'd want to be there for tuck in and wake up?"

"I tucked them in with the wife before I came back for clean up," Bombur explains as he takes one look at Thorin before pulling out a saucepan and placing it on top of the stove. "Half of these fools don't even know how to order a kitchen and the other half are too lazy to do it."

"You're starting to sound like Oin."

Bombur chuckles as he turns away and Thorin grins when he sees Bombur pulling cinnamon and fresh milk out. There's even a jar of honey, and Thorin is excited for what will no doubt be some of Bombur's delicious honeyed milk.

They don't say anything more as Bombur totters around the kitchen and heats up the milk in the saucepan before dropping in various ingredients. Thorin closes his eyes to the sounds of clanging and creaking of the floorboards from Bombur's bulk. It's peaceful down here, and while he doesn't find himself sleepy he does find himself relaxing against the table.

He must've dozed a little though, as when Bombur places a large mug of the milk in front of him he can see that the dishes have been done and the milk is no longer the steaming hot liquid it normally is. In fact it's a perfect temperature and Thorin enjoys his first mouthful with a smile.

"Mind telling me what's got you roaming around so late at night?" Bombur asks as he settles across from Thorin, "Dwalin mentioned some quest to me the other day. Is it about that?"

Thorin remembers having late night conversations with Bombur before their routine was unsettled, and he has no qualms about once more talking over his problems. Bombur's always been patient and kind, and he knows that he can trust Bombur.

"I'm to attempt to reclaim Erebor," Thorin says after a few moments and Bombur nods his head slowly. "Gandalf the Grey sought me out and has encouraged that now is the time to take action. He's given me six months to assemble a party of men to help me in this quest."

"And you don't know who to take?"

Thorin grimaces into his mug. "No," he admits, "it will be a risky journey and I do not know if those who come will even return."

Bombur nods his head as he takes a slow drink before he purses his lips. "Well," he says, "there is a dragon in that mountain. If we come back alive then I will be counting my lucky stars."

Thorin nods before he frowns. " _We_?" he asks with a raised eyebrow, and Bombur grins at him.

"Right, sorry, I'm assuming you want to ask correctly?"

"Bombur, you have _children_ -"

"I have the most utter faith in you, Thorin," Bombur reassures with a roll of his eyes and Thorin still feels uneasy but touched as well. "I'm sure you will get us back in one piece, if it is within your power."

"I cannot ask this of you."

"Good thing you haven't asked then," Bombur says with a wink as he drinks more of his own milk and Thorin stares at him in disbelief. "Bofur will come too if you ask. I'm assuming you'll be bringing that Nori with you and Bofur has been panting after him for years now. Bifur may come. I don't know how well his recovery is coming along, but Oin has assured Bofur that he will do fine."

"Bombur-"

"Don't try to dissuade me," Bombur says harshly as he points a finger at Thorin, "I will follow my king into death if I so wish. And I will gladly do so for a cause such as this."

Thorin stares at him with his mouth agape. He cannot believe this dwarf. Just signing himself up for the quest as if there's not a high possibility that he'll die? Bombur is a _fool_.

"Foolish I maybe," Bombur mutters as he scoops up Thorin's mug and wrestles him from his chair, "but I will follow you, Thorin Oakenshield, until my services are no longer required."

"Bombur-"

"Now bed," Bombur orders as he practically frog marches Thorin to the door, "you have a long day tomorrow. Hunt down my brother and cousin, ask them if they will join, and approach the Ri brothers. Dori might choose to come and he will be a useful ally."

"I-" but Thorin can't say anything else as Bombur pushes him from the room and closes the door with a loud "goodnight!" yelled from the other side.

He takes a moment, but eventually he shakes his head and shuffles his way back to bed.

Well, that makes two of his Company then. Only a few more to go.

 

…

 

**Ori**

Thorin thinks he really should've actually thought about whom he wants in his Company. He's decided that only a small group would be useful considering traveling with a large army would draw too much attention, but he has still sent raven's to the nearby Dwarven Lords requesting their aid when he does reach the Lonely Mountain. It will be a large fight against that slug that took his home, and the more to defy it the more likely their win.

After all, no man on his own could possibly defeat Smaug the Terrible, could they?

So far he has only had Dwalin and Bombur join his cause, and that is only because they'd given him no room to argue. He has intentions on asking Nori when he finds him, and definitely asking Balin if he will come. Then from there he will organize the rest of the Company with Balin's help.

… if he says yes.

"Thorin!"

He jumps at his name. He's not use to anyone, especially someone with a _high_ voice, calling out his name. Not since Dwalin told everyone they were to address him as King. Thorin has never wanted them to, but everyone seemed happy to comply with Dwalin's orders.

It's none other than young Ori who is hurrying towards him, still calling out his name, and Thorin raises an eyebrow as the young dwarf skids to a halt in front of him. He's panting and holding an armload of books that would almost be as tall as Ori himself if they were on the ground. It's rather endearing and Thorin understands why Dwalin tends to trip over his tongue every time Ori is nearby.

Although Ori starts to totter over once he stands still, and Thorin doesn't hesitate in rushing forward to grab half of the books.

"Oh, thank you," Ori says with a light blush on his cheeks as he grins at Thorin, "I thought I could hold them all but obviously not when standing still. Which makes sense considering these books have more mass and weight than I do so being able to _hold_ this many in the first place is a bit of a miracle and-"

"Ori."

"Right. Yes. Sorry. Rambling." Ori gives him a nervous grin as he readjusts his hold on the books and puts them on his hip. "I didn't mean to ramble, but you know when one gets nervous one tends to start to ramble, and sometimes hyperventilate too? Which I don't think that part has happened to me yet but you never know it might…"

There he goes again off on another tangent, and Thorin rolls his eyes fondly. He honestly has no idea why Dwalin won't just puck up the courage and admit his feelings for Ori. It would make a lot more sense than to skirt around the subject like children. If Dwalin is using the excuse that Ori is barely out of teen hood so he can't be ready for a relationship then Dwalin is essentially acting like he himself is just out of teen hood. It's ridiculous. But Thorin has been sworn to not interfere with any sort of romantic love lives.

The last time he did Dis nearly killed him. Although, how was he supposed to know she was just flirting with the man to get a better _deal_ not because she wanted to _marry_ him?

"Ori," he cuts the dwarf off again with his name and Ori slams his mouth shut as he gives Thorin another nervous grin.

"Sor-"

"No apologies," Thorin interrupts lest Ori starts rambling _again_ , "nerves get to the best of us. Although, I am curious as to what you are nervous about?"

Ori opens his mouth to answer and Thorin raises an eyebrow when nothing comes out. Ori just fidgets for a moment before he grins and inclines his head towards Thorin.

"I have to drop these books to the library," he says and Thorin glances behind him to see the library just down the lane. He really hasn't spent much time learning the layout of Ered Luin if seeing the library there is a surprise to him. "Will you help me carry them down?"

Thorin agrees and turns around to fall into step alongside Ori. He patiently waits for the young dwarf to explain his nervousness, and he's rewarded when Ori turns to him suddenly as they walk.

"I wish to join your quest."

If Thorin hadn't of been prepared for something outlandish, although this _is_ pushing the limit, then he probably would've swallowed his own tongue at Ori's declaration. Instead though he just stares at Ori with wide eyes and a hanging jaw.

"What?" he says dumbly, and Ori rolls his eyes.

"Your quest. To reclaim Erebor," he huffs, "I wish to come with you."

"Who told you about it?" Thorin hisses, and Ori looks unimpressed as he readjusts his armload of books and starts to walk again. Thorin honestly hadn't noticed that they're paused in their walking, and hurries along to walk back in step with Ori.

"Dwalin might've mentioned it," Ori says quietly, and Thorin's eyes narrow. Of course it was him. "Well, okay, he might've mentioned it to Dori because apparently Dori would be a useful addition to this Company you're forming and I thought that maybe I could come too? I mean, someone has to record this quest down and I'm the only scribe who's actually young enough to make this trip especially because if Balin comes he'll be spending more time worrying about you and advising you than actually writing everything down and I can-"

" _Ori_."

"Sorry!"

Thorin groans and he wishes his hands were free so he could rub one over his face. That blasted Dwalin. Of course he'd blabbed. Thorin has no idea why he still thinks that trusting Dwalin with important information is a smart idea.

Too be fair, Dwalin probably told Dori in the best interests. To try and recruit him according to Ori, and Thorin can't fault his friend on trying to be helpful.

"Ori," he finally says after a few moments, "you cannot-"

"I can come!" Ori objects before Thorin can even finish. "I can! Dwalin has taught me how to use more weapons that just a slingshot and I am _very_ good with the slingshot! I won't get in your way, I'll focus mainly on writing but I promise I won't be a hindrance and-"

"Dwalin will skin me alive if I take you, Ori."

"Dwalin can just bugger off," Ori mutters and Thorin is surprised at the young dwarf's language. If Dori heard him speak like that he'd have a heart attack. "I don't believe Dwalin should have a say over anything I do," Ori continues completely oblivious to Thorin's surprise, "especially considering he hasn't even had the balls to acknowledge his feelings for me. He's ridiculous."

Thorin can't help but laugh at Ori's pout, and Ori gives him a disgruntled look before he storms ahead to open up the doors of the library. Thorin trails behind him with a smile on his face and he drops the books he's holding on a nearby table to a chorus of Ori's thanks.

"If you feel so strongly about this then," he says, "you may come. But only if Dori does as well. And only if you promise that from now until we leave you will train _every day_ with Dwalin until I believe you are ready for this journey."

Ori nods instantly, and there is a grin on his face as he holds out his hand to Thorin. "You won't regret this," he says as Thorin takes Ori's forearm in his hand and grips it tight.

"I better not," he replies with a warm smile, "otherwise dealing with Dwalin is going to be a _nightmare_."

 

…

 

**Dori**

It makes sense to go and see Dori when he next has the spare time. It's been a month since Ori recruited himself, and there is no doubt that Ori might've already mentioned it to Dori.

Although, Dori hasn't come storming through Thorin's Halls just yet demanding an explanation on why Thorin is corrupting his younger brother like he did last time Fili and Kili dragged Ori into one of their ridiculous pranks that had Dis and Dori standing over them while all three were forced to clean all the stables in Ered Luin as punishment.

He learns from Dwalin that Dori is at home and Thorin treks through the mud from the morning's rain to get there. By the time he arrives on the Ri house doorstep he is covered in mud up to his ankles, and he grits his teeth as he raises his hand to knock on the door.

Dori answers it fairly quickly, and he gives Thorin a once over with a turned up nose. "Take those blasted boots off before you come inside," he says in way of greeting before he turns around and disappears into the house, leaving the front door open and Thorin standing on the porch.

It takes him a moment but he manages to tug off his boots and drop them just in the doorway. It feels odd to walk in just socks, and he shuffles his feet across the wooden floor into the kitchen where Dori is hovering.

"Let me guess," Dori calls loudly, and Thorin gathers that he doesn't realise that Thorin is in the same room as him, "you're here about that quest of yours?"

"Yes," Thorin grunts as he settles down at the table in the room. Dori jumps at how close his voice is and scowls at him as if Thorin has offended him in some way.

"Well, I should tell you now that I most certainly will not being going with you on this fools quest," Dori mutters as he bustles around the kitchen and Thorin smiles when he sees Dori pull out two mugs and place them on the table. "Although, I am curious as to what it is all about? Dwalin doesn't give the best details."

"I am going to reclaim our homeland, Dori," Thorin says after a moment in which he just watches Dori. "I'm assembling a group to follow me across Middle-Earth to Erebor, to reclaim our birthright, to-"

"To get killed," Dori interrupts as he pulls over a kettle and pours them a hot drink of tea. "You can't possibly think that you'll come out of this alive."

Thorin doesn't answer as Dori puts the kettle back then settles in his own seat across from Thorin. They cup their mugs tightly in hand and Thorin stares at the steam as it comes out in wisps.

"Do you remember the mountain, Dori?" he asks quietly, "do you remember the rooms that were so large you could barely see the ceiling? The floors that were so smooth it was like finely polished glass? Do you remember the large fires in the halls that made the shadows flicker and the mountain so warm?"

Dori smiles down into his drink before he nods slowly. "Of course I do," he murmurs, "I'm old, not stupid."

Thorin reaches across to touch the back of Dori's hand to make him look up. "I'm going to reclaim our _home_ , Dori," he whispers softly, "so that we can bring back those fires and bask in the warmth of the mountain once more."

Dori regards him for a long moment before he sighs and pulls his hand out from under Thorin's grip. "I have a home here, Thorin," he says gently, "a place of peace and plenty. I will not come with you on this quest."

"Ori is coming."

"Sorry," Dori coughs with wide eyes, "did I say _not_ coming? I meant of course I'm coming! When do we leave?"

Thorin has to hold his laughter back by picking up his mug and taking a long drink. He almost chokes, but its better than facing Dori's wrath if Thorin were to actually _laugh_ in his face. Dori's gaze is intense though and Thorin reluctantly puts his mug down to lace his fingers together.

"Not for another five months," he answers. "By then there will be more of us than just five, and our skills in battle will have hopefully improved."

"You mean Ori."

"Yes," Thorin smiles, "I mean Ori. The boy is determined to come and I refuse to allow him to be at a disadvantage."

Dori purses his lips before he sighs. "Well, I am with you on that. I will begin my own training soon then."

Thorin nods as he takes another sip of his tea and Dori grins at him.

"After all," he says, "if we are to stomp across the land on a stupid suicide mission, I may as well look my best."

 

…

 

**Gloin**

Dori isn't the first to say no to him, and he won't be the last. He has to stand in Gloin's shop for hours pleading with him to come on this quest before he can even nudge him towards agreeing.

"This is important, Gloin," Thorin sighs as he picks at the wooden table he is sitting at. It needs a new varnish and he peels away the old flecks of wood as Gimli, Gloin's young son, does the same beside him. Gloin looks at him over his shoulder from where he's standing at another table in the room with a raised eyebrow and his abacus tight in hand as he narrows his gaze.

"Aye, as is my job, laddie," he growls as he moves some of the papers in front of him about, "no one else in this town is as good with money as I am."

"That's because no one is as _stingy_ as you," Thorin mutters under his breath before he smiles at Gloin. "I know that. You are the best in Erud Lein," he flatters and Gloin preens under the compliment, "that's why I ask you to join us. I can only have the best, and you are our best banker-"

"Yes, well," Gloin huffs as he turns around and looks towards his son, "I cannot leave my son-"

"Yes you can," Gimli pipes up with a raised eyebrow. "You definitely should go, Adad. We'll be fine. I can look after Maam. Well, she can probably look after herself but I can stick around to make sure she's okay and if you die-"

" _Gimli_."

"What? You've got all our accounts stored; we'll be looked after. We'll miss you like crazy, but Mahal will reunite us! This is a brilliant opportunity, Dad," Gimli argues and he grins at his father, "I would suggest that you not miss out on it."

Thorin sits speechless. He honestly hadn't expected _Gimli_ to be piping up with an encouraging speech for his father, and by the look on Gloin's face he could tell Gloin hadn't expected it either.

"Your mother-" Gloin starts but Gimli's snort cuts him off.

"She'll be _gutted_ if you don't take this chance up. You know her theory on taking life by the horns." Gimli's grin unsettles Thorin a bit and he squirms further across the bench seat away from him. "And she'll be really pissed that you turned down _royalty_ ," Gimli continues, and Thorin frowns when he sees Gloin's face pale.

"She'll understand why."

"No, she won't."

"She won't at all," Gloin mutters before he turns to Thorin and puts on a forced grin. "I will talk to the missus about it," he declares, "and then I will give you my answer."

Thorin slowly nods his head before he gives his hurried goodbyes and scrambles out of the house. The look of _glee_ on Gimli's face unnerves him. He's never met Gloin's wife, but if the way Gloin's face had paled he assumes she must be a force to be reckoned with.

It's only a handful of days later that Gloin approaches him. Thorin's standing in one of the nearby fields with mud up to his elbows and knees, scooping hay into the nearby paddock. The hay is in the most uncomfortable of places, and he itches when he moves. He'd already discard his shirt earlier to try lessen the amount of places the hay could stick to.

"Your Majesty?" Gloin calls out as he approaches, and Thorin looks up with a raised eyebrow and gladly takes the mug of water from Gloin.

"It's just Thorin," he gently reprimands, "I'm no king."

"Yes you are," Gloin replies flippantly and before Thorin can argue, because he's _not_ a king until he reclaims his _kingdom_ , Gloin plows on. "I talked to the missus," he says and the look on his face seems slightly haunted, "she has encouraged me to accompany you on your trip."

Thorin has half a mind to torment Gloin. He'd found out a few things about Gloin's wife, and he'd never realised she's such a big fan of the royal family. But Gloin looks uncomfortable as is, and Thorin feels disgusting and sweaty as he stands in this retched paddock.

There's not really a mood for teasing, so Thorin just puts on a smile and holds out a dirty hand for Gloin to reluctantly take.

"Welcome to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield," he says and Gloin gives him a pained grin, "let's make your wife proud."

 

…

 

**Fili**

It'd been Thorin's intention to keep the quest a secret from his nephews. Both of the boys are too impulsive, and Thorin has no doubts that they will be determined to follow him on this quest with or without his permission.

He'd talked it over with Dis and she had agreed, even Dwalin had been onboard, but of course he'd forgotten entirely about _Fili's_ inquisitive nature and it's no surprise that Ori's sudden attendance at all of Fili's own practice lessons had raised many questions.

Thorin isn't too surprised when Dwalin points it out to him, but he is surprised that Fili has clearly managed to wrangle the truth from Ori as he stands in front of Thorin with his swords out and an eyebrow arched.

"Your answer?" Fili demands, and Thorin blinks stupidly for a moment.

"Say again," he replies slowly, and Fili huffs in annoyance as he straightens up from his defensive stance and gives Thorin an irritated glare.

"I challenge you for the right to accompany you on this quest to reclaim Erebor," Fili challenges again and Thorin is thankful he at least has enough common sense to _keep his voice down_.

"What? No!" Thorin exclaims with wide eyes. "Besides the fact your mother would _kill_ me, you're the heir. I cannot take you on this trip. Your death would wound more than just your mother, brother and myself."

"I can look after-"

" _No_ , you can't," Thorin snaps and he takes a few steps forward to yank one of Fili's sword out from his hand before he brings his foot forward and knocks Fili's feet out from under him. It's with a bit of reluctance that he lifts Fili's sword and points it at Fili's throat. "You cannot even stop me from knocking you to the ground."

"I wasn't ready!" Fili argues as he reaches up and knocks the sword away from his throat. Thorin lets him, especially when he sees the small bit of fear in Fili's features.

"And you think an orc or human will just _wait_ for you to get your feet under you?" Thorin lectures as he takes Fili by the elbow and pulls him up. "You're not experienced enough for a quest such as this."

"I can do it, Uncle," Fili insists, and he yanks his sword back from Thorin and surprises him by rushing forward and kneeing Thorin in the stomach followed by crashing his elbow into Thorin's back, sending him to his knee with a grunt.

" _Fili_!" Dwalin bellows, but Thorin waves him off. He'd deserved that.

Slowly he rises to his feet and takes his sword off of his back with a glare towards Fili.

"If you really want to challenge me," he states as he holds his sword in front of him and watches Fili take a cautious step back, "you best name your terms."

Fili visibly swallows before he drops into a defensive stance once more with both his hand held tightly in his hand. "Don't kill each other," he establishes needlessly, "but if I win then I can come with you. If you win-"

"Then you shut up and _never_ mention this again," Thorin finishes and Fili slowly nods in agreement before he surprises Thorin by charging forward with a battle cry.

He has plenty of time though and brings his sword down to block both of Fili's before he side steps and swings his sword around to whack the flat of the blade against Fili's ass. Fili stumbles forward a few steps with a cry of dismay before he turns to glare at Thorin.

Fili doesn't say anything though, and he just raises his swords once more to attack Thorin. He's smarter this time though as he swipes at Thorin's side with his left sword, forcing Thorin to block the blow just as Fili swings his right sword at Thorin's head.

He barely ducks and rolls to the side before rising into a crouch to slam his shoulder into Fili's stomach. Fili's knees buckle, but Thorin hears him grunt right before one of Fili's hilts slam into Thorin's shoulder.

They pull apart panting heavily as Thorin clutches his aching shoulder and Fili is doubled over holding his stomach. They make eye contact, and Thorin has a sudden surge of anger.

He refuses to take this boy with him. Not Fili, who is like a son to him, and he tightens his grip on his blade before he lets out his own battle cry and sprints forward.

Fili looks terrified for all of a moment before he begins to block every one of Thorin's blows. Thorin is relentless though, and he slashes and jabs, and Fili has to use both of his swords to parry each blow of Thorin's. He gets in a few of his own attempts at a hit, but Thorin artfully dodges them before continuing his assault. He pushes Fili across the courtyard, advancing on him with each attack and Fili looks panicked as he glances behind him to see the wall of the courtyard looming closer.

He reminds Thorin of a panicked animal, and he has a moment where he wonders just what Fili will do, but he pushes it aside to aim one of his blows near Fili's hand. It's enough of a fright for Fili to instinctively let go of his sword, and it takes Thorin barely a second to disarm Fili of his second sword.

He's not expecting Fili to suddenly drop to the ground and roll away from the wall. It takes Thorin a moment to reorientate himself, but by the time he does Fili is already attacking with one of his reclaimed swords.

It's Thorin's turn to be against the wall, but he puts as much force into a few of his blows, slipping past Fili's defenses to land a few hits on Fili's body. They're just with the flat of his blade, so they will only bruise, but he sees Fili wince at each step back now.

Once more they storm across the courtyard. Thorin watches as Fili starts to falter, not use to only have the one sword after so many years of adopting his father's technique, and he starts to land more and more of his hits until suddenly there's a sharp sting across his forehead and a painful drop of blood lands in his eye.

He freezes for a second, the sting of a new cut surprising him, and he see Fili pale as he glances at the red trip of his blade before Thorin lashes out and slams Fili's sword from his hand. It clatters to the ground and Thorin once more knocks Fili's feet out from under him.

Fili crashes to the ground and Thorin stomps forward to point his sword at Fili's throat and claim victory before he sees Fili's hand come up and the dirt thrown into his face suddenly blinds him.

He's not expecting himself to join Fili's on the ground, but Fili punches the back of Thorin's knee and makes him fall to the dirt before Fili's rolling on top of him and tugging Thorin's sword from his grip.

It's clearly turned into a grudge match now, and Thorin blinks away the dirt as he grasps Fili's wrist and begins to wrestle with him for his sword. They end up rolling around the ground trading punches and kicks, Fili even _bites_ him at some point, and Thorin comes to the realisation that his nephew has insane survival skills.

Finally he pulls Fili's grip away from his sword and slams him back onto the ground. He struggles up to sit on his nephew’s thighs to stop him kicking and pins his wrists to the ground. He makes sure to keep away from Fili's head, lest Fili attempt to head butt him, and he watches as Fili continues to fight his grip to no avail.

"Admit defeat?" he pants, and Fili shoots him a look as he tries to move his wrist, but Thorin tightens his grip to an almost painful tightness. " _Do you submit_?"

Fili struggles for a few moments more before he sighs and relaxes. "I submit," he mutters, and Thorin sighs in relief as he loosens his grip and sits back on Fili's knees. His nephew looks completely dejected, and Thorin actually feels bad as he starts to climb to his feet.

He's barely standing before Fili is suddenly kicking out and Thorin once more is sent to the ground with an "oof!". Fili's laughter lets him know it wasn't completely malicious, but he stills reaches over and drags his nephew into a headlock before proceeding to rub his knuckles over Fili's head as his nephew screeches for mercy.

"You little shit," he laughs before he drops his hand but keeps Fili close to him. Fili snorts but happily stays pressed to Thorin's side, and Thorin squeezes Fili's shoulder. "You fought well," he says, "despite a lot of your techniques being dirty fighting, you have greatly improved."

"Not enough," Fili mutters darkly as he pushes away and struggles to his feet. Dwalin is by their side now, and he clasps Thorin's hand to draw him to his own feet.

Fili is walking off dejectedly and there is a limp in his walk and his hand is holding his side. Thorin is about to rush over to drag his nephew to the healers when Dwalin's hand comes down on his shoulder.

"He is a strong fighter," Dwalin growls, "and he has excellent survival skills."

Thorin bits his lips and reaches up to brush away the hair caught in the wound above his eyes. "He is my nephew, Dwalin," he says quietly, "and the heir to the throne."

Dwalin just gives him a look though and Thorin sighs. He's right, of course he's right. Fili is an excellent swordsman, and he grudgingly turns to catch up to his nephew with his own limp.

"Fili," he calls, and Fili glances behind him with a dejected look on his face that makes Thorin wince. He catches up though and places his hand on his nephews shoulder.

"I promise I won't tell-" Fili starts, but Thorin cuts him off with a grin.

"A bit more training with just the one sword," he interrupts, "and you'll be ready to go. Dwalin has already agreed. Twice a week until we leave. I expect you to not miss a _single_ one."

Fili stands speechless for a long moment before a giant grin blossoms on his face. "Really?" he asks in disbelief, and Thorin smiles back.

"Really. Now," he gives Fili a pointed look, "I can't be taking damaged goods with me. Let's get you to Oin."

Fili looks beyond ecstatic as he nods his head, and Thorin doesn't feel guilty at all as he leans on Fili to get them to the healer. The kid definitely has enough energy to carry them both. If anything, that'll be a positive for when Thorin no doubt gets his ass handed to him by Dis.

 

…

 

**Oin**

Thorin can honestly say that he'd had intentions on asking a healer to join their Company. He hadn't expected one to volunteer though, so when Oin turns to him with a glare and informs him that he will be joining them on their journey, he's speechless.

Fili, who's currently under Oin's rather agitated ministrations, winces as Oin slaps his bruised knee before he speaks up on Thorin's behalf. "Why would you want to come, Mister Oin?" he asks politely, and Thorin would snort at how _formal_ his nephew is but Thorin knows he's just as terrified of the dwarven healer, and being formal and respectful is the best way to get on Oin's good side.

"Why?" Oin growls as he tugs the bandage around Fili's elbow harsher than necessary, " _why?_ The fact that you have to even ask me that, _boy_ , is enough of a reason in itself!"

"But-"

Oin cuts Fili off by holding Fili's bandaged arm up in front of his face and dropping it, making Thorin cringe at Fili's yelp of pain. Oin just looks satisfied though and gestures to Fili cradling his pained arm as if it's an explanation.

" _This_ is why," Oin practically yells, and it's loud even for him, "because the sons of Durin are the most impractical and _stupid_ dwarves I've ever had the misfortune to meet. You challenged your own uncle, one of the _best fighters_ we have, to a bloody duel and you expected to win?" Oin glares at Fili as he flicks him in the side of the head. "It's a pity you only inherited your fathers looks. It would've been better to inherit his _brain_ since you bloody Durin's appear to _lack_ one."

Thorin feels like sinking into the wall to get away from the tangenting healer. As he'd said, he'd had intentions on asking a healer to join them but Oin had most certainly not been on the list. Sure, he's the best healer they have, but one always comes out a bit more damaged than how they'd gone in after the lecture that Oin gives them.

Especially himself and his nephews. _Every_ time. He remembers when Oin had been younger and taking care of himself and Frerin whenever they'd screwed up. He's sure that Oin almost made them deaf throughout their childhood.

"And _you_ , Thorin Oakenshield," Oin bellows as he turns from Fili to glare at Thorin, and Thorin is fairly certain that he squeaks at the healers glare. " _You_ are the worst dwarf I have ever had the misfortune to treat. Don't even get me started on your inability to _take care of yourself_ or we'll be here all day!"

Fili is looking at Thorin with a curious gaze, and Thorin refuses to make eye contact with his nephews as he pucks up the courage to straighten his back and glare right back at Oin.

"I would not ask you to accompany us, Master Oin," he says calmly, and he has to stop himself from wincing when Oin's eye twitches. "It is a much to perilous trip for you to take-"

"Oh but not for the dumb boy who challenges his _uncle_ , the best fighter these dwarves have seen in a _long_ time, to a battle?" Oin demands as he waves a hand at Fili who ducks his head in shame. "I am coming with you, Thorin, and there is nothing you can do to stop it."

Thorin feels like he's been run over by a bunch of horses, and he raises his hand to rub his temples. Arguing with Oin is never pleasant.

"Oin-"

"Silence!" Oin snaps as he clips Thorin over the back of the head, and Thorin blinks in shock, "now sit down and let me tidy you up. At least the little blighter managed to land some blows on you. Seems he's not entirely incompetent."

Thorin gives Fili and apologetic look, but his nephew just shakes his head and gives him a weak smile.

"No point in arguing, Uncle," he says with a laugh, "I guess Oin is coming with us."

"That's _Mister_ Oin to you," Oin growls and promptly whacks Fili's arm with a towel. Thorin smiles at his nephew's yelp before he glances down at his hands and waits for Oin to finish growling at Fili.

Well, he thinks, that makes seven of them. Even though he'd much rather the grouchy healer stay behind and terrorise everyone else, thank you very much.

 

…

 

**Kili**

The difference between his nephews, Thorin finds, is that while Fili is incredibly honorable and will challenge him to a fight to get what he wants, and will accept defeat if that is what happens… but _Kili_? No, Kili takes after his mother far too much and _manipulation_ is his forte.

They're all sitting down for dinner. Thorin had always requested that they never have a table with a head. He's always despised sitting at the head of the table, so when he'd requested from the Ur sons to make him seating with bench seats everyone had been surprised.

But here they sit with Thorin squashed between Fili and Dwalin with Dis, Kili and Ori, who had been pulled along to join them after a late training session, on the other side of the table. Thorin is honestly considering strangling himself with his potatoes at the looks Dwalin and Ori are exchanging, but Bombur might take it personally so he just trades exasperated looks with Dis instead.

They're about half way through the dinner though when Kili suddenly clears his throat and all attention is drawn to him. The look on his face makes Thorin quickly swallow his mouthful, considering the last time Kili had that look on was when he'd decided he was going to marry an _elf_ and Thorin had promptly choked and showered Dwalin in half chewed meat lumps.

Not very fun.

"So, Uncle," Kili says slowly, and Thorin decides at the alarmed look on _Fili's_ face that putting his utensils down and resting his hands in his lap is a good idea, "I've heard about this Quest for Erebor you're going on."

Thorin instantly freezes just as Fili hisses at his brother to shut up, and he turns very slowly to glare at his red faced older nephew beside him. Fili takes one look at him before he drops his gaze to the table, and Thorin makes a note to give his nephew the lecture of a lifetime when this is over.

"Have you now?" he replies as he raises his head to make eye contact with Kili, and he does see something in Kili's face that looks a lot like hesitance before it's wiped away by determination.

"Yes, and I want in."

He knew it was coming, but it doesn't make him any less angry as he tightens his hands into fists and he's thankful that he put his utensils down. Beside him, Dwalin stiffens and on his other side Fili groans and drops his head into his hands. Kili's gaze doesn't waver once though, and Thorin brings his hands up to lace on the table and he takes a deep breath.

"No."

Dis lets out a sigh of relief, Fili groans, Kili looks incredibly mad, and Thorin is convinced the other two aren't even really registering what's going on around them.

"Why not?" Kili asks with his hands tightened into fists, and Thorin wonders just how this kid came to be so like him. Dis is glancing at him with a raised eyebrow, and Thorin refuses to look at his sister.

"You are a child, Kili," he starts but Kili is already gesturing madly and pointing at his brother.

"So is Fili in your eyes!" he points out with a cry, and Thorin wants to groan, "how am I any different? I can fight! You taught me everything to know about the bow, Fili has taught me stealth and scouting which I know he learnt from Nori, and we all know _Nori_ is the best at that! Even Dwalin has instructed me in sword fighting and I know I'm not perfect, but I can join Fili and Ori in their lessons-"

"How on earth do you know about _those_?" Fili pipes up, and Kili rolls his eyes.

"Ori is ridiculously unsubtle," he mutters, and Ori flushes red when everyone glances at him, "I mean he can't stop talking about Dwalin on a day he hasn't seen him. How do you think he is after spending entire afternoons with him?"

Thorin feels a bit speechless. His nephew is good at manipulating just like his mother. All three of Thrain’s children had been taught in ways similar to their gender and stature. Thorin, as the bulkiest and the heir, had been taught with swords and axes but also given a basic knowledge of every other weapon, something that had been built upon more when Frerin had come along with his smaller and lithe size, perfect for bows and dagger. Dis had been something different. Her knowledge of weapons was basic but enough to get by in battle, but as a woman and a diplomat their mother had spent special time teaching her ways of manipulation. Something she had delighted in practicing on her brothers.

He glances at Dis to see her just smirking into her drink; obviously enjoying having decided Kili would learn the ways of manipulation as well as bows. Thorin can’t say he’s particularly thrilled. Just like his mother Kili had decided that using his brother and his uncle as practice was a brilliant idea.

He wonders how Dis would feel though if he took both boys. Obviously she's convinced he won't be, especially after the fight they’d had when he told her Fili is coming with him. She hadn’t been happy at all, and Thorin still winces when he thinks about how many times she’d brought up Frerin’s death, something Thorin will always feel personally responsible for, just to compare him to Fili. Vili’s death had been next on her rant, but thankfully she’d seen that Thorin had gotten the point before then.

He can't take Kili, it's the truth, and he takes another deep breath before he interrupts Kili and Fili who're currently arguing.

"Not only are you too young," he interjects, and Kili raises an eyebrow, "but I must leave one of you boys here. If something were to happen to all three of us on this quest, then the kingdom will fall into peril-"

"It'll fall to Mother," Kili argues, "don't think that I don't know the risks. But I wish to come with you to reclaim your homeland. _Our_ homeland. It's all you've ever talked about, and to see your dream come true is something I wish for with all my heart, Uncle."

The words strike something in Thorin, and he stares at his nephew for a long moment. He never thought that Kili felt so strongly about this. Fili, yes. His oldest nephew had always asked for tales of Erebor before Smaug, had always asked what the old ways were before they became nomads with little honour. But there is a fire in Kili's eyes that remind Thorin a lot of… well, _himself_.

"And anyway," Kili continues, "if you don't take me I'll simply tell the whole town and see what happens then."

Thorin pales just as Fili bellows " _menu shirumund_!" at his brother. Dis is instantly reprimanding Fili for calling his brother _beardless_ of all things, Dwalin is looking at Thorin in shock, and Ori looks more interested in his meal than the politics at the table.

His nephew is _much_ stronger than Thorin thought, if not with sword then definitely with tongue. He stares at Kili for a long moment as the boy takes the tongue-lashing his mother is dealing out, and after a few moments of evaluation he glances at Dwalin.

"Don't do it," Dwalin hisses, but Thorin just offers him a weak smile.

"He's strong, he's bold, and I can't risk him blabbing to the village. You _know_ he will, Dwalin. He's a skilled manipulator… he takes after his mother on this."

"Fili got his father’s genes and that rat got the Durin's," Dwalin mutters as he turns to stab at his meal with his knife, "Fantastic. Bloody brilliant. I can’t wait to deal with the brat for the next foreseeable future."

Thorin smiles bitterly along with Dwalin before he turns to look at his family across the table. All of them seem to notice his stare, and they all settle into their seats once more with an air of nervousness.

"Thorin-" Dis starts, but Thorin shakes his head. She falls silent, but he can see the look on her face is one of pleading. She clearly knows what he's going to say, and Thorin can't help but feel overwhelmingly guilty.

He thinks of Frerin, fallen to Thorin’s own mistake, and Vili, who’d died after another one of Thorin’s decisions. He looks at his two nephews, and he’s determined to not let two more of his family die because of his inability to think with his head.

"Will you be able to hold down the fort in our absence?" he asks Dis quietly and he has to close his eyes for a moment to look away from her distraught face, "and in our permanent absence if that is the case?"

Dis looks heartbroken, but Thorin knows she won't speak out against him in front of Ori or her sons. Her respect for him is too high, and he has every intention on reassuring her later tonight when the young ones have gone to bed and it will only be himself, Dis and Dwalin.

Her eyes are watery as she nods her head slowly, and Thorin reaches out with his boot under the table to knock her ankle.

"Just come back so I don't have to keep that promise," she whispers, and Thorin smiles as he turns to his giddy nephew.

"You may join us," he says and Kili grins. Thorin hates that grin. It reminds him too much of Frerin’s before they’d charged into battle, Frerin for the last time.

“Thank you, Uncle-” Kili starts to say, but Thorin cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“But there will be conditions,” he interrupts and Kili falls silent, “and this will go for all three of you. You will _all_ listen to every word and command I say. If you ignore direct orders even once, you will be on a one-way trip back to Ered Ludin. If I am incapacitated, you will take orders from Dwalin. If Dwalin falls as well then at this current time order will go to Fili and your task will only ever be to get _everyone_ out of whatever situation we are in. Understood?”  
  
All three nod their heads slowly, and Thorin sees Fili looking pale. He rests his hand on Fili’s shoulder to attempt to reassure him before he settles his gaze on Kili.

“You will join them in training, something I assume you already know the schedule of. I will be joining at least one training session a week from now on and on that day all three of you will be under my guidance to learn stealth and distance fighting. Dwalin will cover melee weapons and hand to hand. Any questions?”  
  
They shake their heads and Thorin nods to himself as he looks down at his meal. His appetite is long gone, and with a sigh he swings his leg over the bench, forcing Dwalin to move, so he can stand up.

“Now if you excuse me,” he says to the quiet table, “I have some papers to draw up. I’ll see you for training tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

There’s a murmur of agreement as Thorin walks from the room.

He just hopes he’s not making a mistake.

 

…

 

**Bofur**

Organising the settlement for winter, dealing with Old Havestan, preparing for this quest _and_ organising a clans meet half way across the bloody world is tiring work, and frankly Thorin just feels like curling up in a ball and sleeping. Dis currently refuses to talk to him since he'd accepted Kili into the Company, and Dori is giving him the cold shoulder at every opportunity since Ori came home with a black eye from where Fili had accidentally gotten too overzealous. Dwalin had gone on a brief rampage about it as well, and Thorin had faced losing at least two, if not _three_ , of his Company depending on whom he sided with.

He's visited Bombur too much in the last week or two and his reliance on Bombur's sweet honey milk to get him to sleep is becoming ridiculous.

He's sitting in the dining area of his Halls one night with all his paperwork spread around him when he recruits another to his motley crew. Dwalin had long since gone to bed, still muttering about Fili, and everyone else was either busy, sleeping, or giving him the silent treatment. It's exhausting, and Thorin reaches for his mug of honeyed milk only to groan when he accidentally hits it with the tip of his fingers and watches it start to fall off the table.

It's caught though by someone else, and Thorin raises an eyebrow as he looks up to see Bofur smiling at him with Thorin's mug in hand and another two tankards in the other.

"Getting tired, Thorin?" Bofur asked as he nudges the mug back over to him and Thorin curls his hand around the handle while Bofur slides into the seat across from him. "Shouldn't you be in bed? Bombur's been complaining about your lack of sleep for weeks now."

"Too much to do," Thorin mutters at his old friend, "I can't just go to bed when there's still paperwork to finish and instructions to write."

"Ah, yes, for when you're away on this Quest for Erebor," Bofur hums as he reaches out to tap his fingers on one of the latest contracts Old Havestan's drawn up, and Thorin pulls it out from under Bofur's fingers with a frown.

"Bombur told you?"

"He told me that you were supposed to be asking me to join as well," Bofur replies as he plonks his tankards, of what looks like ale, on the table, "want one?"

Thorin purses his lips before shaking his head. "I won't sleep if I drink that rubbish," he says and Bofur looks offended at the slight of the drink before shrugging and hoarding them close.

"More for me," he cheers before he inclines his head at the paperwork in front of Thorin. "Isn't Balin supposed to be helping you with this kind of thing?"

"Balin has gone on a spontaneous trip to visit his grandmother in the North," Thorin sighs as he starts to shuffle the papers around into a tidier pile. "He left shortly after my return a few months ago. He's sent ravens to say he's going to be longer than the month or two he suspected."

"He'll be back before you leave for the clans meet though?" Bofur asks, and Thorin gives Bofur a wide-eyed stare that has Bofur rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Bombur may have told me that too."

"I don't know why I trust that dwarf."

Bofur snorts and reaches out to pat Thorin's arm. "He only told me because he thought you'd already asked me to come with you," he says, "it's not his fault that you're slack."

Thorin sneers at him before he turns back to his paperwork and starts to shuffle it all into a neat pile. Bofur just snorts though, and Thorin rolls his eyes. This dwarf is honestly ridiculous, but his entire presence seems to have been enough for Thorin's mood to pick up.

Maybe Bombur is right. Bofur is not only an experienced fighter, but he also has a seemingly infectious attitude. Thorin knows that his tendency to drink _too much_ might be a problem, but he knows a certain dwarf who'll be coming that Bofur might get distracted by enough that those problems will go away.

"So," he awkwardly begins after a couple of moments, and Bofur looks at him with a raised eyebrow and grin, "this quest. Would you like to be a part of my Company?"

Bofur snorts and chugs back some more of his ale. "Depends," he says cheekily as he winks at Thorin, "will there be ale on this trip of yours?"

Thorin calmly reaches across and picks up his tankard of honeyed milk. "Well, I know what there will be," he says slowly, "a certain dwarf. Hair shaped like a star, always on the wrong side of the law, complete scoundrel. Ring any bells?"

By the look on Bofur's face, Thorin can be rest assured that Bofur is _definitely_ part of the Company now.

 

…

 

**Bifur**

Thorin remembers the Battle of Azanulbizar well. He remembers the losses they suffered, those who'd died and those who were wounded beyond repair. He remembers watching his grandfather drop with his head no longer attached, his father disappear into a horde of orcs and never return…

He remembers turning his back on Frerin for one moment only to hear a guttural scream as his brother had fallen with a sword in his back and fear… fear on his face.

He wonders if Frerin would've joined his quest had he been alive, and he shakes his head at the thought that Frerin _wouldn't_. Steering his brother away from a fight had always been the hardest thing of their childhood.

It's these thoughts that plague him the night before he leaves for the clans meet. He's still short of men in his Company, and already he has contacted Gandalf to request finding another burglar. He's no longer certain that Nori will join them. His friend hasn't returned from Gondor, and while Thorin has hope Nori will still pull through he's not entirely convinced.

It all weighs on him, and he chooses to get an early night sleep before he leaves in the afternoon the next day. Dis is still barely talking to him, and Thorin hopes that she will say something before he leaves. He can't bear the thought of leaving with the possibility of no return, and leaving their relationship as is.

Of all the things he doesn't expect though, which is a mighty long list, seeing _Bifur_ sitting on his bed and whistling a merry tune is probably near the top of unexpected.

"Bifur?" he hesitantly asks as he walks further into the room. Bifur swings his head over to look at Thorin, and Thorin has always found Bifur's eyes to be incredibly piercing. Piercing and blank since the brain damage that the axe caused, and he glances up at the axe only to wince and look away.

" ** _I wish to come with you_** ," Bifur growls in Khuzdul, the sound of their old language sounds harsh and angry, and Thorin purses his lips as he walks into the room further.

"It will be dangerous," he explains, "and the living will be rough. We'll be fighting and traveling in terrible weather. It's not going to be a picnic."

Bifur nods his head slowly as he gets up and walks towards Thorin. Thorin almost takes a cautious step back, knowing that Bifur is slightly unstable now. Bifur never was the nicest man, always hard and tough, someone you wouldn't want to get into a fight with. But since the Battle of Azanulbizar Bifur's tendency to sporadically lose control is legendary.

" ** _I was not given the honour of dying in battle_** ," Bifur suddenly growls as he steps that little bit too close, and Thorin does take a step back as he prepares himself for one of Bifur's changes in mood. " ** _I have had every choice taken from me since that bloody battle. I have been reduced back down to a toymaker and I don't know when my mood will switch. I'm no longer in control of myself or my actions_**."

"Bifur-"

" ** _I need a chance to live again, Thorin_** ," Bifur continues despite Thorin's attempts to talk. " ** _Please. Give me this chance_**."

Thorin pauses for a long moment, looking at Bifur's desperate face. He's never seen Bifur like this. Even when he was lying in one of those blasted healing tents after the Battle of Azanulbizar with an axe in his forehead and practically frothing with rage, Thorin had never seen him so damn _defeated_.

"This quest is not one for the unpredictable," Thorin finally says. He sees Bifur's face fall and his chest squeezes uncomfortably before he reaches out to place a hand on Bifur's shoulder. "It will not be easy for you."

Bifur doesn't say anything. He just simply drops his head and nods in quiet defeat. It pains Thorin, and he takes a brief minute to actually _think_ about what Bifur has said.

Because he's right. Bifur's chance at dying a warrior's death was stripped away the moment the axe imbedded itself in Bifur's head. His ability to control his mood, his actions, sometimes his thoughts, was taken from him.

"You can't make a mistake," Thorin sighs after a moment, "we will be watching you. I will instruct Dwalin personally to make sure that you do not step out of line, and I am sure that Dori will volunteer to assist. I want you to communicate with Oin constantly, and tell _me_ where you're at stability wise. I will not endanger the rest of the Company, but I am also unwilling to let this opportunity go for you."

Bifur looks shocked, more than anything else, and Thorin isn't quite prepared for the deep gruff laugh as Bifur rushes forward to hug him. It's surprising, it's kind of awful, but Thorin pats Bifur's shoulder and closes his eyes.

It will be harder with Bifur... but who is he to take the last bit of hope Bifur has?

 

…

 

**Balin**

He honestly hadn't expected to see Balin at all before he left. The dwarf had only returned a couple of days beforehand, and Thorin had been too busy preparing for his journey west to seek out his old friend.

Part of him was definitely avoiding Balin too. He knew what Balin was going to say about this quest, this _fool's_ quest. He knows he won't be able to bare Balin's remarks on the quest, lest he started doubting himself.

Of course he didn't factor in that Balin might come find him. He knew that Dwalin had already spoken to Balin about the quest, but he just assumed he'd be gone before Balin would speak to him.

He's just finished lifting his pack onto his back and saying his final goodbyes outside the gate when Balin appears. In fact, Thorin's halfway down the road away from the settlement when he hears panting behind him and a voice.

"Were you ever going to ask me?" Balin calls from where he stands behind Thorin, and Thorin slowly turns around to see the older dwarf puffing as he places his hands on his hips and raises a judging eyebrow.

"Would you have said yes?" he asks in reply, and Balin goes to say something but Thorin cuts him off. "You would've turned me down," Thorin grimaces, "you still might."

"Thorin-"

"Balin, I know what you'll say. That I don't have to do this. That I have a choice. That I've done honourably by our people, that I've built and new life of peace and plenty… that it's all worth more than a _horde_ of gold."

Balin looks uncomfortable before he steps forward to place his hands on Thorin's shoulders. "Then why do you still go?" he asks, and Thorin sighs as he glances at the ground.

"Because we deserve to have our home back," he answers honestly, "we deserve to finally feel like we belong in one place. We deserve the comfort and beauty that Erebor can give us, and we deserve our _birthright_. A dragon took it all away from my grandfather when he became too greedy and mad for gold, and I have every intention on rectifying my grandfather's mistake, no matter the cost."

"You're not your grandfather, Thorin," Balin says, and Thorin bites his lip.

"Come with me," he almost pleads, "come with _us_. There is no one I trust more. Please, Balin."

Balin is smiling sadly though as he shakes his head. "I am too old, Thorin. I have long since put aside my warrior days and have adapted to the quiet life. I cannot come with you."

Thorin can't help but snort a little as he pats Balin's shoulder. "You've always complained about how the quiet life never suited you, Balin," he laughs, "don't go getting senile on me now."

Balin's lips twitch in a smile and there's something in his eyes that makes Thorin feel a little reassured. It's not much, but it's definitely something, and Thorin has a feeling that maybe Balin isn't as much of a lost cause as he'd begun to think.

He squeezes Thorin's elbow as Balin steps back. "I will finish the preparations for winter on your behalf," he says sternly. "Good luck, Thorin. I have hope that you'll return safely."

"I'll see you in Hobbiton in a month," he says, and Balin sighs dramatically before lifting a hand to wave Thorin goodbye.

Thorin isn't worried. He'd seen the flash of hesitance. He knows that Balin will be there. After all, Balin's loyalty to the crown has never wavered, and Thorin knows that Balin will do anything he can to aid Thorin.

Even if it means joining him on a half crazed quest with a bunch of mismatched misfits.

 

...

 

**Nori**

Thorin had been offered a horse to make his journey to Dunland and back, especially so as to arrive at Hobbiton in time to meet this last member of the Company that he'd asked Gandalf for before he'd left home. Of course the wizard would pick a _hobbit_ , but Thorin desperately needs his help so he'll go along with the old man's ridiculous idea for now.

He'd rejected the offer of a horse though, knowing full well that they needed all the men and horse power they could get to finish the last of the harvesting as well as the building of shelters done before Winter kicks in. Old Havestan is convinced this year will be the worst, and Thorin doesn't doubt the old dwarf. He may be crazier than Gandalf, but he has a good sense for the weather.

So he walks along on foot and he leaves a week early to allow himself time to get to Dunland and rest for a few days before taking on the heads of the clans. Luckily Dain will be there, and Thorin knows his cousin will aid him if he asks.

He's been on the road for only two days when he hears a rustling in the trees above him. His fingers twitch towards the sword on his belt as he glances up, but he sees a flash of red hair and pointed tips and he relaxes. It's not bandits or animals, in fact he knows exactly who it is and he continues to walk along as he waits for the man to show himself.

A few rustles later, Nori drops down at Thorin's side, perfectly balanced with a grin already on his face as he greets Thorin with a hearty, "my King" and exaggerated bow.

Thorin shoves him roughly on the shoulder and snorts when Nori sways, not having expected Thorin's push, but Nori regains his balance quickly enough and shoves Thorin back.

"Uncalled for," he says, and Thorin rolls his eyes as he hitches his bag up on his back and continues to troop down the road. Nori falls into step beside him, matching his pace exactly, and Thorin suddenly feels lighter at the Company.

"You've taken your time in turning up," Thorin scolds as they walk together. "What was in Gondor that was so important?"

Nori grins at him, and Thorin regrets asking instantly. "There was a kings meet," he answers, "or a rulers meet, since they don't really have kings anymore. But either way, it was the perfect place for me to be. Drunk kings have the heaviest pockets."

"You're the worst," Thorin mutters, and Nori laughs loudly. "I think some times I should have you arrested."

"You'd have to catch me first," Nori snorts. Thorin rolls his eyes before reaching out to push his friend over again, this time succeeding and Nori hits the ground with a squeak. It makes Thorin laugh heartily, and he steps over Nori to keep walking only for a hand to snake around his ankle and drag him to the ground as well.

He swears as he smacks his elbow on the ground with a crack, and he can hear Nori's cackling as his friend reaches over to push him back over when Thorin struggles to sit up. The two of them wrestle for a time, Thorin enjoying the chance to participate in some tomfoolery for once, before they collapse on their backs, panting in the dirt.

"You're an idiot," Thorin mutters, and Nori laughs as he thumps Thorin's chest and leaves his hand resting there. Thorin can't help but smile a bit, and he takes comfort in his friend's closeness.

"Ah, says the one on the suicidal mission to take on a dragon," Nori comments, and when Thorin gives him an alarmed look he just looks sheepish. "Ori contacted me a couple of weeks ago to let me know. I don't know how that brat does it, but he's got more tabs on me than I do on him."

"He's cunning, I'll give him that," Thorin agrees as he struggles to sit up and Nori does the same. They give each other cheeky grins before Thorin shoulders off his pack. He might as well take a break now while he's already sitting.

"So, are you going to ask me?" Nori asks after they've shared some bread and cheese that Thorin unravels from his pack.

Thorin swallows his mouthful before answering. "Do I really need to?" he says, and Nori rolls his eyes.

"Well, it would be polite."

"You're going to turn up anyway."

"Yes, but what if I _don't_."

Thorin sighs. "Bofur is going to be there," he says, and the look on Nori's face almost makes him burst out laughing. He can't tell if it's fear or excitement, but either way Nori's eyes have grown _insanely_ large.

"Oh, well, in _that_ case-" he starts, and Thorin does laugh as he reaches out to smack Nori playfully.

"You're disgusting," he sniggers. Nori gives him a coy smile and wiggles his eyebrows, enough to make Thorin snort unattractively, before Nori reaches into his own backpack and pulls out a small book.

"Where are we meeting then?" Nori asks as he drags out a bit of charcoal as well. "Back home? The clans meet?"

"The Shire."

Nori blinks blankly at Thorin for a moment, and Thorin wonders what his friend is thinking right before Nori bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach dramatically as he pretends to wipe tears from his eyes.

"Sorry," he chuckles, "I'm pretty sure I just heard you say the Shire. I think I need Oin to check on my ears-"

"I did," Thorin cuts him off, mildly irritated, but the stunned look on Nori's face makes him feel a little better.

" _The Shire_?" Nori practically shrieks, "you _hate_ the Shire! You've always complained about how placid and _nice_ the hobbits are! Why the _hell_ are we meeting there?"

"Gandalf's decided the final member of our Company is to be a burglar, and he apparently knows of a particular hobbit who's good at the job."

" _I'm a burglar_."

Thorin just shrugs his shoulders as Nori flops back on the ground with a groan. "I'm not happy about it either," he states, "but who's going to argue with a wizard?"

"You always argue with wizards," Nori mutters under his breath, and Thorin gives him a filthy look. "What! It's true!"

"Shut up, Nori," he snaps as he gets to his feet and begins to pack his bag back up. He has to keep moving for the clans meet, and he really does not have time to argue over _hobbits_ of all things.

"Oh," Nori suddenly says, his voice stunned enough to get Thorin's attention, "oh, you're _curious_."

"What?" Thorin demands in bewilderment as he whirls around to see the shit-eating grin on Nori's face. It makes him a bit uncomfortable and he shuffles his weight around as Nori also rises to his feet.

"You are definitely using this opportunity to figure out your weird fetish for hobbits."

"I thought you said I hate them."

Nori snorts and waves his hand. "Everyone knows that you only 'hate' them because you're ashamed of your weird attraction to them," he says, and Thorin feels his ears turn pink in embarrassment, " _that’s_ why you're not arguing with Gandalf."

"Shut up, Nori," Thorin repeats as he turns away and shoulders his pack. This is _not_ a conversation he wants to be having with Nori, or _anyone_ for that matter. Hell no. He is not okay with this.

He starts to walk away, not even bothering to say goodbye. It'll be his luck that Nori will shadow him all the way to the clans meet and back anyway. Thorin knows that Nori thinks he's subtle, but Thorin is too use to him now to _not_ pick up on the signs.

"Ooooh Thorin's got a fetish, he's gonna marry a hobbit," Nori singsongs from behind him.

Thorin resists the urge to turn around and _pulverise_ his friend into the dust.

 

…

 

**Bilbo**

The last member of his Company is the hobbit. No real surprises there, and for a long time Thorin doesn't consider him a member at all.

Bilbo Baggins is Gandalf's pet project. He was reluctant to come in the first place, only accompanying them well after they'd left the Shire borders. No doubt he'd only come because he'd started to feel ashamed of himself. He _does_ seem the guilty type.

But he's swung up on a horse and pulled into their Company line and Thorin does _not_ find the flushed cheeks and wide eyes adorable, thank you, Nori.

The hobbit clearly doesn't want to be there, especially as they progress past the trolls into Rivendell. Thorin decides that the more the hobbit doesn't want to be there the more he doesn't want the hobbit there. Then the more Thorin dislikes him the more the hobbit becomes more irritating and it becomes a vicious cycle that Thorin knows he's capable of breaking but he simply doesn't want to.

When Nori and Dwalin accuse him of pulling pigtails he puts them both on horse duties. It's conveniently right after the Troll Incident so he gets away with it with no eyebrow raises from anyone but Bombur.

It gets worse when they hit Rivendell and Bilbo bonds with the elves. Thorin is brave enough to admit only to himself that he is a little jealous that Elrond can bring out such a sweet smile while he only brings out a deep frown. It makes him wrinkle his nose in disgust every time he thinks about it. Nori watches him knowingly but thankfully doesn't say a word.

Unfortunately Thorin isn't as subtle as he thinks, a sentence that defines his childhood, and Bilbo approaches him cautiously before they set out from Rivendell. He knows the hobbit isn't thrilled at sneaking out in the middle of the night, but Thorin doesn't believe that a non-Company member should have a say, no matter what Balin says.

"Is this really a good idea?" Bilbo asks quietly beside him. "You don't think we should wait for Elrond-"

"You're more than welcome to stay with the elves, hobbit," Thorin interrupts, knowing he's being utterly rude. Bilbo looks affronted, taking a step back and opening his mouth a couple of times in what's most likely anger.

"You think that's what I want to do?" Bilbo demands, and Thorin is impressed at the sudden anger. He likes Bilbo as placid as he is, but his anger is a lot more attractive and arousing. Which he will never admit out loud.

"You appear to favour them more," he points out nonchalantly, turning his back on Bilbo to pack his rucksack. Definitely not to hide his red ears and the slight blush of arousal. "If you wish to stay with them then I believe they will have no problems with that. Elrond seems particularly attached."

"What are you trying to imply?"

Thorin hoists his rucksack over his shoulder and turns to raise a judgmental eyebrow at Bilbo. "Nothing," he says, his voice implying otherwise. "I don't imply. I observe."

Bilbo looks vicious as Thorin shoulders past him, and Thorin bites his lips to force himself not to say anything more. He catches Nori's eye as he walks away from the hobbit, and he narrows them when Nori starts making obscene gestures whilst snickering.

Of course he starts to regret the things he said when he's lying half dead on the ground watching the White Warg stalk towards him and the only thing stopping it is Bilbo with his toothpick of a sword and sheer determination.

He attempts to repair some of the damage on the carrock. He admits his mistakes, he apologizes, he praises Bilbo, he even holds him.

“You’re brave, Master Baggins,” he admits in front of the whole Company, and Bilbo’s smile widens to such a blinding level that Thorin's stomach rolls, his cheeks and ears flush, so much so that it makes Thorin preen.

But even then, _even then_ … he just can't accept him into the Company.

It seems as if Bilbo knows this. He spends the time at Beorn's absent from the rest ofthe Company, spending his time with the animals or the shapeshifter. Thorin doesn't blame him. While the hostility is gone the damage is still there.

He sees how his nephews adore Bilbo, how Bofur showers him with affection, how even Nori is accepting of Bilbo into the folds of the group, yet Thorin cannot see the traits he expects.

There’s bravery. There’s so much bravery in Bilbo that Thorin feels almost put to shame. He waits for the honour, the loyalty, but it’s not until he’s standing in the Mirkwood dungeons listening to the tormented Company that Bilbo proves himself once again.

Thorin readily admits he’s an utter fool for spitting in the face of the Elven King and rejecting his offer. After all, what are a few gems compared to the treasure of their homeland and their freedom? He admits it out loud as the others mutter about the sun rising when he hears feet shuffling and a small face peeks out of the shadows.

“A fool you may be,” Bilbo says with a quirky smile before he dangles the cell key in front of the cell door. “But at least you have a fool of a Took running around behind you.”

Thorin has no idea what that means, but it doesn’t matter to him as hope floods his body and he rushes towards the cell doors where Bilbo is shushing the excited Company. One of Bilbo’s hands is wrapped around the bars as he tries different keys in the lock, and Thorin can’t resist reaching out to wrap his larger hand around Bilbo’s smaller one.

Bilbo’s shocked look makes Thorin grin and he gently squeezes his hand. “You’re here,” he says quietly, not willing to let any of the others overhear him. “I didn’t think you would be.”

The shock melts away to a large smile as Bilbo surprises Thorin this time by wriggling his fingers to interlock with Thorin’s over the bar. “It’s not like I can go home anyway,” Bilbo replies joyfully, “unfortunately I seem to have grown attached to you all.”

Thorin laughs, unable to help the joy at seeing such a sincere look on Bilbo’s face. “You’re incredibly loyal, Master Baggins,” he remarks. “It’s heartening to see.”

Bilbo hums his acknowledge just as there’s a click of the door unlocking. He swings it open, causing them to drop their hands from the bar. Thorin almost instantly misses the small hand interlocking with his, and he flexes his fingers as the warmth of Bilbo’s still tingles his skin.

“Aye,” Bilbo grins, “brave and loyal. Only honour to go, correct?”

He doesn’t give Thorin time to even respond before he’s ducking down the gangways to unlock the doors of the rest of the cells. Not that Thorin could respond anyway as he stands completely speechless.

They escape though, that’s all that matters to Thorin at the moment as they tear down the river in barrels. He feels slightly sick at first until the first arrow slams into the wood near his hip and then he’s too busy focusing on the orcs and his Company and the wounded Kili and wondering just _where the hell the Hobbit has gone_.

There’s so much going on that the nausea dissipates and his thoughts leave him until there’s just the basic of _get out of here alive_ chanting through his mind.

It’s not until they’re safely stowed away on a boat heading towards Lake-Town that Thorin notices the quiet and wet Bilbo standing beside him. He can’t resist standing a little closer, offering his warmth without being too forward, and he sees Bilbo’s arms relax where they are crossed as he leans into Thorin’s side.

“My apologies,” Thorin murmurs quietly to him, “I hadn’t realised-”

“That I’d noticed your hesitance to accept me into the Company?” Bilbo finishes for him, an almost self-deprecating smile on his face. “I’m not that blind, Thorin. But I don’t blame you. I needed to prove myself, I still do. Everyone here has earned your trust and respect. I cannot simply expect you to _give_ it to me.”

Once more Thorin cannot find words at Bilbo’s blatant statement. He’s much too good at rendering Thorin speechless, but Thorin can’t say much more anyway as suddenly Bard is bellowing at them to climb into their barrels. He watches Bilbo go, his mouth twisting up into a sort of puzzled smile. The hobbit continues to astound him.

It hits it’s peak though when they’re dragged in front of the Master’s house and Thorin himself is standing on the steps staring at the crowd, his words of honour and bargaining lying in the dense and silent air as everyone seems to doubt him.

He can feel his own doubts crawling over him like a shadow, baring down on him and making him question himself. The Master is silent as his gremlin of a sidekick asks questions. Asks for someone to vouch for him, to vouch for his character, and Thorin feels all his pride starting to leak out of him as he realises that no one… _no one_ _unbiased_ will.

“Me.”

Thorin’s head snaps around so fast he fears for a moment he may have snapped his neck. It’s Bilbo, delightful Bilbo who takes a trembling step forward with his hand raised.

“I’ll vouch for him,” Bilbo continues, his eyes falling to land on Thorin and Thorin can’t bear to look away as Bilbo seems to puff out his chest and nod to himself. “Now, I have travelled far with these dwarves through great danger,” he says loud and clear, his voice carrying over the silence. “And if Thorin Oakenshield gives his word,” he locks eyes with Thorin again, a small smile on his lips, “then he _will_ keep it.”

The cheers start immediately, ripping through the crowd, and Thorin feels his own chest start to swell with pride even as Bard starts to tear him down again. It doesn’t work though, not as Bilbo nods at him and Thorin stands up tall.

He thanks Bilbo once they’re alone. The rest of the Company is dancing and being merry amongst the tables of food and drink, and Bilbo stands quietly to the side simply watching. Thorin takes the time to stand beside him, soaking in the warmth of Bilbo’s body by his, and he smiles down at him when Bilbo finally looks up.

“Thank you,” he says again, and it feels like those are the only words he can ever really say to Bilbo. Yet it never feels enough. “For what you said.”

“It’s the truth,” Bilbo replies simply. “You’re brave, loyal, and honourable. There is no other who’s word I would trust more.”

Thorin smiles as he reaches down to place his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Aye,” he agrees, “you are indeed brave, loyal, and honourable.”

Bilbo starts in surprise, looking up at him with a frown. “No, I meant you-” he starts to say but Thorin cuts him off as he raises his voice to the room.

“Tomorrow,” he calls loudly, gaining the attention of every dwarf and human around them, “tomorrow we make way for the mountain, for _Smaug_.” Murmurs of agreement ripples through the crowd. “But tonight,” Thorin continues, “we dine and make merry.”

“Hear hear!” Bofur calls out from the back, his cheeks flushed and arm wrapped around Nori’s neck. Thorin grins, watching them lean against each other.

“You’re a loyal and brave Company,” he continues, watching them all. Balin smiles from where he stands close and Dwalin raises his mug in a small salute. “I could never have asked for a more noble group.”

Bombur chortles, nose a shiny red to match his brother’s cheeks, whilst Fili and Kili let out whistles as they squash a surprised Ori between them.

“But there is one we owe our thanks to,” Thorin carries on, holding everyones attention, even Gloin and Bifur who seem to be hell bent on drowning themselves in ale tonight, “one who is more brave than us all, more loyal, more honourable.” He glances at Bilbo, Bilbo who is standing close with a beautiful flush that makes Thorin chest flutter.

He glances out, seeing Dori and Oin evaluating them with knowing looks. Thorin ignores them, but doesn’t challenge them as he takes a moment of courage and wraps an arm around Bilbo’s waist.

“But he is more than that as well,” he presses on, “he’s kind, he’s gentle, he’s completely different to us all. Yet, he is _one of us_ , and he always will be.” He raises the tankard in one hand, watching his Company follow suit with all of their eyes looking at Bilbo.

“Thorin…” Bilbo whispers, both horrified sounding and shocked. Thorin grins, squeezing the hand resting on Bilbo’s hip.

“To our burglar,” he cries, the others following suit, “to our hobbit, our Master Baggins!”

The roar back is deafening, and Thorin tips his tankard back along with the rest of the Company as Bilbo shakes beside him. When he drops his mug he can see tears in Bilbo’s eyes, gratitude in the lines of his face, and the smile on his face is so gentle and so carefully aimed at Thorin that Thorin feels like the world has narrowed to only them.

“Thank you,” Bilbo murmurs, eyes bright and his hand trails to cover Thorin’s. He squeezes tightly and moves closer to Thorin. “Thank _you_.”

Thorin can’t stop his own small smile, and he leans forward to press his lips gently against Bilbo’s forehead. Bilbo’s sweet sudden intake of breath makes Thorin feel he can soar, and he grips Bilbo tight.

“Welcome,” he says quietly, lips moving against Bilbo’s skin, “to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

 

 

_fin._

 

 

 


End file.
